He laughs, then scoops me up and carries me across the deck as I laugh and order him to put me down.
“Sadly, I’m going to have to give in to your demands.” He puts me on my feet and nods at the ladder. “Probably best not to risk maneuvering that together.”
“Probably,” I agree. I glance back at the dock, frowning slightly.
“Second thoughts?”
My smile is wide and very genuine. “Only about my wardrobe.” I indicate the dress. “I can’t go to the island like this.”
“As much as I’d like to suggest that you frolic naked and barefoot there, you’re probably right.”
“Can you drive me back to my condo?” I think about the traffic between Marina del Rey and Santa Monica and wince. That’s going to take forever.
“I have a better idea. Come with me.”
He steps onto the ladder and I follow him down into the large area that is now his workspace. I have no time to look around, though, because he continues down another level to where two doors open off either side of a narrow corridor. The one on the right is open and I realize I’m looking into Jackson’s bedroom. Considering it’s a boat, it’s a decent size, and exceptionally tidy. I start to glance around, just to get more of a feel for the space, but my eye is drawn to a photograph hanging on the wall near the door.
It’s a red-haired woman holding a small, dark-haired girl. They’re in a park and were caught in a candid moment smiling and laughing.
I recognize the woman—she’s the redhead from the documentary screening.
I look at Jackson, feeling suddenly shaky. “You care about her,” I say, unable to keep the accusation out of my voice.
He frowns. “What?”
“You said in the car that you didn’t care about any of the women you’ve slept with. But you care about her.” I hate the jealousy that laces my voice, and yet I cannot help myself.
He comes to stand beside me, then reaches out and takes the picture off the wall. “I never fucked Megan,” he says. “Not like I did the others.”
I turn to look at him, curious and, yes, jealous of the gentle tone in his voice.
“I slept with her, but it was a weak moment for both of us.”
“Who is she?”
“A friend,” he says, and though I expect him to elaborate, he doesn’t. “It was a mistake. Can you understand that?”
I think of Louis and all the mistakes I’ve made. “It’s not my business who you’ve slept with in the last five years.”
“No, it’s not,” he says. “But it still matters to me that you know.”
I nod, feeling a bit guilty for my own secrets. I’d told him in the car that I hadn’t slept with any guy since him. And that’s technically true. But I have slept with Cass. One stupid, drunken time after I got back, and we both knew it was a mistake right away. And though I feel like I should tell him, I don’t want to put any sort of weird vibes between my best friend and my boyfriend, because no matter what else, right now, they are the two most important people in my life.
So I only nod. “It’s okay,” I say. “I understand mistakes.”
“She’s still a friend,” he continues. “She and Ronnie mean the world to me.”
“Ronnie?”
He strokes his finger over the little girl’s image. “Her daughter.”
“She’s pretty darling.”
“She’s a great kid.” He cocks his head and looks at me, just looks for so long that I start to feel a little bit antsy.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m just glad you’re here.” He pulls me close and kisses me. “Someday I want you to meet both of them,” he adds, as he hangs the photograph back on the wall. “At any rate, you’re about Megan’s size. I think there are some clothes in the other bedroom you can wear on the island.”
He leads me back across the corridor into the closed bedroom. It’s similar to his, only smaller. “This is her room?”
“This is a guest room,” he says firmly. “She’s often a guest.”
“Right. Sorry. I’m still slightly green.”
He laughs. “I think I like that you’re jealous. Just not too much.”
“Fair enough,” I say as he pulls open a drawer and takes out a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt.
“There are some jeans, too, if you’d prefer.”
I check the size on pants and hold them up to myself. “No, I think these are okay. What about shoes?”
